The Detective and his Assistant
by Dokuro22501
Summary: With Sherlock putting his life on the line every chance he gets, John's feeling of worry turns into something else. Sherlock begins noticing John's feelings and becomes confused with his own feelings that have come up.Unable to confront John, as well as himself, with the feeling, Sherlock instinctively ignores them and tries to hide them with the feelings he thinks he has for Irene
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

"Sherlock!" John called as he ran up the stairs and into Sherlock's room. He frantically searched for a clue that would tell him where Sherlock was. He flipped through books that were openly scattered across Sherlock's floor, reading every sticky note he came across. A beeping noise that came from the living room drew John's attention away from the books. He walked over to his laptop, which was sitting half closed on the desk. "Damn it, Sherlock." John whispered to himself as he stared at the tracking map pulled up on his computer. He then frantically wrote the location of the blinking red dot down and left.

* * *

"So what exactly is your motive?" Sherlock asked. Sherlock inspected the room around him. It was dirty, most likely abandoned. The main electricity line was shut off, or broken, leaving only the small candle like lights on the wall and fire to illuminate the room. The wood flooring and mantel piece warped due to the deterioration of the room ceiling, allowing water, from either a broken water pipe or rain, to exude in. The wallpaper was worn and discolored and began tearing in unusual spots. Sherlock turned to examine the man standing in the room with him. "Not money." He said excluded when he appraised the man's clothing and accessories. A large ring sat promisingly on the man's right-hand middle finger and a gold watch on his left wrist. "Something's missing."

"What?" The man questioned as Sherlock thought aloud to himself.

"Something's missing!" Sherlock said directly to the man this time. Sherlock walked towards the man, making him uneasy. The man removed his left hand from his pants pocket and moved it towards the inside of his jacket. "Ah, I see now." Sherlock stopped and grinned. Then he turned his back to the man and began walking back to his original spot.

"See what?" The man questioned again as Sherlock went back to thinking aloud.

"A ring." Sherlock answered.

"What ring?" The man, still feeling uneasy, moved his hand further inside his jacket.

"Exactly," Sherlock said, turning around the face the man, "the ring that is missing." The man just stared at Sherlock, saying nothing. "On your left hand, ring finger, there is a recent tan line where a ring has been. The skin color matches that of which is always covered by your watch, which means it has only recently been removed. Otherwise it would have been exposed to the sun and even the slightest change in skin tone would have occurred. Either she left you within the last few hours, or the ring is being used as a reminder of what is waiting for you."

"Shut up." The man said defensively.

"Tell me, your motive for murdering hundreds of people is just for the life of one." Sherlock looked confused for a moment.

"I love her!" The man shouted after a moment of silence.

"Love. Yes, well I suppose that would justify it." Sherlock said sarcastically and then laughed. "It doesn't exist."

"What?" The man began questioning again.

"Must you question everything I say? Are you that stupid?!" Sherlock began walking towards him with annoyance. "Love, it doesn't exist. It's illusion that simple people like you create to fulfill a sense of meaning in life."

"Stop." The man demand as he pulled a gun out of his jacket and pointed it at Sherlock, who stood only a foot away from him.

"Do you really think something as inexplicable as love can exist?" Sherlock began throwing question at him.

"Stop it or I'll shot" The man raised his voice.

"You don't really want to kill me." Sherlock laughed. The man just stared at him, trying to make Sherlock believe that he indeed did want to kill him. "Oh come on. If you wanted to kill me you would have done it already. There is obviously no information you wish to obtain from me. So tell me, why am I here?"

"I have no choice." The man began to cry. "I have to save her. He told me that if I ever wanted to see her again that I'd have to get rid of you."

"He? Who is he?" Sherlock backed away from the man.

"I can't tell you." The man continued to cry.

"Then what about all the other people? The bombing?" Sherlock demanded to know.

"He said you would be at the bombing location!" The man cried even harder.

"He? WHO IS HE?" Sherlock began pacing the room impatiently. Then he went back to frantically questioning the man, who still had the gun pointed at Sherlock.

* * *

"Can we not go any faster?" John yelled at the cabby.

"I'm sorry, but traffic is backed up." The cabby answered.

"Okay, thank you." John said as he handed the cabby money and then got out of the car and began to run. He was quite familiar with the address seeing as how it was only a block away from Sherlock and his favorite coffee shop. John ran as fast as he could to the location. It was an apartment building that had been abandoned four years ago after a small fire that left a family of three dead. When John reached the building he tried to jerk open the door but the door was locked. He quickly looked around to see if anyone was on the streets, which was unlikely because of the time. He pulled out his gun and shot twice at the door lock. The second blow forced the door completely opened.

"Sherlock!" John yelled as he ran up the stairs. Just as John opened the door to the room Sherlock was in, he raised his gun. The sound of two gun shots filled the air. However, the first gun shot was not his.

The man, holding Sherlock captive, fell to the ground. Sherlock stared blankly at John as he placed his right hand near his left shoulder. Sherlock removed his hand to find blood covering his fingertips.

"Sherlock!" John ran to him as he hit the floor. "Sherlock!" Sherlock heard John screaming his name as his consciousness went in and out. Sherlock tried several times to get up but was forced back down by John who yelled through his forming tears, "Don't get up! You'll only make it worse." The sound of sirens soon approached and surrounded the entrance of the apartment building.

"John…" Sherlock whispered before completely blacking out.

"Sherlock!" John said as the tears freely began to flow. "We need to get this man to a hospital, FAST!" John yelled at the medics entering the room. They carefully put Sherlock on a stretcher and carried him away.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

"Afghanistan or Iraq? Afghanistan. How do you feel about the violin? I'm sorry what? I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end, does that bother you? Potential flat mates should know the worst about each other… Are you wearing any pants? No…Why are you saying this? ... I'm a fake, the newspapers where right all along… Nobody could be that clever. You could… SHERLOCK! NO SHERLOCK!" Sherlock jolted to a sitting position in the hospital bed. He groaned as he grabbed the left side of his chest and then lay back down.

"Sherlock!" John yelled as he ran from his chair to the side of the hospital bed.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked as he began to get up and pull all the devices that were hooked up to him off.

"Sherlock, you're in the hospital. You need to lay do-"John tried to convince Sherlock to stay still.

"Clearly, I'm at the hospital. What other place would have me hooked up to useless mechanisms." Sherlock muttered as he stood up. Sherlock grabbed the railing of the hospital bed as the world around him spun.

"Sherlock, you need to lie down!" John kept trying to get Sherlock into the bed. "Sherlock-"He repeatedly said as he pulled at the hospital gown that Sherlock was wearing.

"Uh! What is this hideous thing?" Sherlock said, looking down at the hospital gown. "I can't go home looking like this. Where are my clothes?"

"Sherlock, regardless of what you are wearing you can't go home. Not yet." John explained to Sherlock. Sherlock shot a glare at John and the started to make his way to the exit.

"Sherlock. Lay down now." A voice demanded from the doorway. Sherlock looked quickly up at the door way, making the world spin even faster and causing him to lean on John for support.

"Mycroft. Nice of you to finally visit." Sherlock sarcastically said. He stood up straight but still wobbled as it he was intoxicated.

"Oh grow up, Sherlock Holmes. " Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Fine. If that's all you have to say then I guess I'll be on my way." Sherlock began walking towards the door in a staggered pattern.

"Sherlock, listen to your brother and lay down!" A voice came from behind Mycroft.

"Ms. Hudson." Sherlock straightened up even more and tried to stand still.

"Lay down." Ms. Hudson repeated herself. Sherlock took in a deep breath and admitted defeat. He made his way back to the bed, refusing John's help, and laid back down.

"There you have it. I'm lying back down." Sherlock said as he gently fell back onto the hospital bed. "Now," He said clearing his throat, "Will someone please tell me what happened."

"Sherlock, you were shot." John stated.

"Oh was I!? That may explain the bullet wound in my chest!" Sherlock said using a sarcastic tone once again. Everyone just stared at him. "I know I was shot! But why?!" Sherlock began losing patients. Everyone just continued to stare. "Oh wonderful, none of you know." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"We weren't there Sherlock. You can't expect us to know." John said in a low voice, as if he felt guilty for not knowing the answer to Sherlock's question.

"Whatever." Sherlock said and then stared angrily at the ceiling.

"Tea, Ms. Hudson?" Mycroft asked. Ms. Hudson shook her head 'yes' and then they left.

"Sherlock… why are you so angry?" John asked as he walked over to the railing of the hospital bed.

"I can't remember." Sherlock said as he pounded his curled up right-hand against his forehead.

"It'll eventually come to you." John said as he reached across the bed and grabbed Sherlock's wrist to prevent him from hitting himself any longer.

"John." Sherlock whispered as he looked him directly in the eyes.

"Let's just be happy that you're alive. I was so worried." John said as he stared back. Sherlock's heart skipped a beat and it felt like someone was pushing down on his chest making it impossible for him to say anything back.

"I… I think I need to rest." Sherlock cleared his throat before speaking. He pulled his arm out of John's grasp and laid it gently down. "If you don't mind, I'd rather be alone. The thought of you watching me in my sleep is... uh… a bit disturbing." Sherlock said as he broke his focus away from John.

"Right, of course." John said. He pulled the blankets further up on Sherlock as if he was tucking him in and then left the room. Sherlock gasped for air as if he had been holding his breath for hours. What was this feeling? He'd never felt it before. He grabbed the left side of his chest again which was throbbing because of his rushing adrenaline.

* * *

"I never thought I'd love my clothing so much." Sherlock seriously stated as he finished buttoning his shirt. John laughed as he handed him his coat.

"I thought you'd be happier about being able to get out of the hospital than being able to get out of the hospital gown." John continued laughing as they made their way out of the hospital.

"You know, Sherlock, I should have been there." John disappointedly said.

"What?" Sherlock confusedly asked.

"It's my fault you got shot. I didn't make it there in time. I'm sorry." John said.

"No, John, it's not." Sherlock felt the strange feeling coming about again. The pedestrian light turned green and John looked away from Sherlock and began walking. He knew it would be pointless to argue with Sherlock and figured it would just be best to bottle the burden up. Sherlock watched as John walked away and then followed slowly behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

"Oh welcome home, Sherlock!" Ms. Hudson greeted them at the door. "Would you like some tea?"

"No thank you." Sherlock replied. "I think I'm going to go rest for a bit." Ms. Hudson looked at John who watched Sherlock slowly walk up the steps and disappear.

"John." Ms. Hudson had to say twice to get his attention. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please." John said as he covered up the worried look with a smile and followed Ms. Hudson into the dining room.

Sherlock quietly shut his door. He stood there for a moment with his back pressed up against the door before beginning to pace back and forth, trying to remember exactly what had happened. His mind wasn't completely unaware of the events that took place, there were just pieces missing.

_Ahh~_ a rather disturbing noise came from Sherlock's phone. Sherlock paused and then hesitantly walked over to his bed. He picked up the phone from where it had laid.

_1 NEW MESSAGE _appeared on the mobile phone screen. Sherlock knew who the message was from by the text alert tone. He threw the phone back down on the bed, and went back to pacing.

Unable to ignore the message, Sherlock went back to the bed and picked the phone up, quickly opening the message.

"Good evening." The text simple read. Sherlock glared at the message for a few seconds until another one came. "Having trouble?" The second text read.

"Trouble?" Sherlock sent back. Almost instantly Sherlock received another message.

"It seems you have found yourself at a lost. You don't know what to do."

"What do you know?" Sherlock desperately replied.

"It'd be no fun if I just told you." Another message was almost instantly received.

"What do you know?" Sherlock repeated himself. This time a message did not come instantly. Sherlock stared at the phone waiting for a reply, but nothing came. He threw the phone back onto the bed, moved his hand through his hair, and then walked to stare observantly out his window.

_Ahh~ _the disturbing sound came from his phone again. Sherlock moved his focus from the unfamiliar outside world to the phone, which was once again lying on his bed. He agitatedly walked to his bed and once again picked up the phone.

_1 NEW MESSAGE_ fixed itself upon the screen once more. Sherlock dubiously opened the message.

"Dinner?" The content of the message read.

"Sherlock?" A call from downstairs interrupted his train of thought. "Sherlock?" It came again after a moment of silence. Sherlock did not answer back. Instead, he grabbed his coat and made his way down the stairs. John, unsure of what to say, or think, about Sherlock's energy, just stared.

"Come on, John." Sherlock said as he made his way towards the front door.

"What? Where are we going?" John managed to get out before Sherlock practically forced him out the door.

"Investigating." Sherlock stated with a slight grin on his face.

"But you've only just got back!" The two could hear Ms. Hudson say behind the slamming door.

"Investigating? Investigating what?!" John demanded to know.

"The crime scene of course, what else?" Sherlock answered.

"The crime scene?"

"Yes, the crime scene. I need to see if there is anything there that will help me remember everything," Sherlock explained as he continued walking quickly to _his_ destination.

"But, Sherlock… The apartment building we were in is the other way." John shyly corrected. Sherlock came to a halting stop. Sherlock stared concernedly ahead, slightly squinting his eyes, and then turned around to face John.

"Of course it is." He responded, hiding his worry.

Sherlock lifted the yellow crime-scene tape and made his way to the broken door. He cautiously walked inside and up the stairs. John doubtfully followed. At the very top of the stairs, to the left, was the room Sherlock had been taken to. He carefully pushed to door opened, unsure if it was idle.

Once positive there was absolutely no sign of anyone in the room Sherlock confidently pushed the door wide open and walked in. He immediately began scanning the room.

"Sherlock, I don't think yo-"

"Shh, John! You're interrupting my moment of thought!" Sherlock rudely hissed as he continued to prowl around the room. "There has to be something. Anything… anything at all!" Sherlock began to quietly yell to himself.

"Sherlock-"John tried to speak.

"Dammit it, John! Why can't I remember?" Sherlock asked in hope of an adequate response as he leaned forward with two hands on the top of a chair. He closed his eyes and tried to visualize a full picture of the night, but all he could get was a faded sketch that went in and out. Getting extremely irritated, Sherlock pushed himself completely up right and stomped out of the room.

"What- Sherlock?" John called as he tried to keep up. "Sherlock!" John called again as they he stepped out onto the street. Sherlock was a few yards ahead and already passed the yellow crime tape. "Sherlock, where are we going now?!" John asked once he finally caught up to Sherlock at a pedestrian cross-walk that was red.

"Home, that place is obviously not going to tell me anything." Sherlock said, shaking impatiently. Unable to wait any longer, Sherlock began walking across the streets.

"The light is still red!" John called out to Sherlock, who was causing passing cars to honk as they barely miss him. John ran after Sherlock, disregarding the color of the cross-walk light, and mouth words of apology to the people in the car who had to stop. John had to run, once again, to catch back up to Sherlock. "Sherlock!" John sternly said as he pulled at Sherlock's coat sleeve. The jerk caused Sherlock to stop and turn slightly towards John. The unexplainable feeling that Sherlock had earlier felt began to come back as he looked directly at John. Sherlock could see the worry in John's eyes. "You need to rest." John said, almost out of breath.

"Rest? " Sherlock asked like he was in disbelief that John would even suggest a think like that. "I don't need-"

"Yes you do." John interrupted Sherlock. Sherlock once again just stared. "I'm beginning to worry more than I should, Sherlock." John expressed. Sherlock felt his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. "Please, Sherlock, for me." Sherlock took in a deep breath and stood up straight.

"Fine." He agreed. The rest of the way back to the flat was silent. John was in deep thought of worry and Sherlock felt like someone was pushing against his chest again, not that he would have said something if the feeling wasn't there.

"Back so soon!" Ms. Hudson delightfully cheered as she made her way from the kitchen to the door. By the time she got there Sherlock was already up the stairs and John was once again staring with a concerned expression.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Sherlock stood, looking observantly out his window again. He knew that it would be impossible to rest, there was too much that needed to be solved.

John, who stood momentarily outside of Sherlock's room, listened carefully to see if Sherlock was indeed resting or not. There didn't seem to be movement but before John knew it, Sherlock swung open his bedroom door. John broke away from his concentrated stare to look at Sherlock. Sherlock stood in the door, only making eye contact with John for a split second. He flipped the collar of his coat upwards and then began walking to the stairs.

"I'm going out." Sherlock declared and the continued his journey down the stairs. John continued to stare where Sherlock had been standing until the slamming of the front door brought him back to reality.

Sherlock soon found himself standing at the yellow crime scene tape. He hesitated before quickly walking into the building. This time Sherlock did not walk cautiously up the stairs, he knew what was waiting for him.

"How'd you know I'd be here?" A voice said from a chair that faced away from Sherlock.

"The last time I was here, you had been here. We'd just missed you." Sherlock answered.

"But how?"

"How could someone forget the smell of your perfume? It took months for the smell to fade from my coat." Sherlock answered, annoyed. There was a moment of silence as Sherlock waited for a response.

"Are you going to tell me what you know?" Sherlock decided to ask once he figured out there would not be a response.

"I know just as much as you do." Irene Adler deviously laughed as she rose form the chair and began walking towards Sherlock.

"You're lying." Sherlock confronted her as she stood only inches from him.

"Just a little." Irene confessed. Sherlock shot a glare down at her. "Dinner, Mr. Holmes?" Irene then said as she moved closer to him.

* * *

"Aren't you going to order anything?" Irene asked as she handed the waitress her menu after ordering.

"No." Sherlock emotionlessly answered.

"Okay then. " Irene whispered.

"Tell me what you know." Sherlock demanded.

"I don't know-"

"Tell me what you know!" Sherlock began to raise his voice. People who sat around them began to stare.

"I can't." Irene answered quickly so that Sherlock could not interrupt her.

"Why?" He immediately questioned.

"I just can't." Irene answered. Sherlock observed every movement Irene made. A small grin appeared on his face as he came to a conclusion.

"He's watching you, isn't he?" Sherlock said as he began noticeably searching the area. There was no sign of anyone unusual, but that didn't mean anything.

"Sherlock, stop. Please for your own safety." Irene begged.

"My own safety?" Sherlock turned, laughing, to look back at her. "I'm never really safe, regardless of what I do."

"If not for the safety of yourself," Irene began, "then for the safety of those you hold dearest to you." Sherlock's face dropped.

"John." He slightly whispered to himself. "I think we're done here." Sherlock said just as Irene's food arrived.

"Sherlock!" Irene tried to stop him. Sherlock threw enough money on the table that would pay the bill, and probably leave enough for a big tip, and then walked nervously out the door.

Sherlock walked frantically unsure of which direction to go. He tried to think of any and every possibility; There was absolutely nothing. Sherlock finally made his way to the flat.

"John!" He yelled as he slammed the door. "John!" He yelled again this time making his way up the stairs. "John!" He began to panic when there was no immediate response.

"What?" John's voice came from the top of the stairs. Sherlock sighed in relief when he turned around to see John standing there safe and sound. Sherlock, refraining himself from running and hugging John, weakly slouched into a chair. "Sherlock," John said concerned. "What is it?" John began walking closer to Sherlock.

"Nothing." Sherlock replied. John continued walking closer.

"Sherl-" John was interrupted.

"I said it was nothing!" Sherlock quickly got up and went to his room, slamming the door behind him. The strange feeling had begun making its way throughout Sherlock's body. Sherlock became angry at the unexplainable feeling. It was something he had never felt to this extreme before.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

"John, I need a case!" Sherlock informed John, who was sitting in a chair looking at the newspaper. It wasn't that Sherlock needed a case, he just wanted one to take him mind off of everything that was happening.

"Sherlock, a case is probably not the best thing for you right now." John said as he closed the newspaper and focused his attention to Sherlock. Sherlock didn't acknowledge John's actions, only his words.

"I think a case is the best thing for me right now." Sherlock stated. He continued to move about the room, still not paying attention to John. "Ah!" Sherlock excitedly said as he stopped at the window. "Looks like there's case!"

"What?" John said, trying to get Sherlock to pay attention to him.

"Ah, good morning, Ms. Hudson." A familiar voice came from downstairs.

"Good morning." Ms. Hudson said back.

"Good morning boy-" Lestrade began to say as he reached the top of the stairs.

"What is it?" Sherlock quickly asked.

"What?" Lestrade asked.

"The case! Why else would you be here?" Sherlock answered, still talking quickly.

"Oh, well actually, I've come to talk to John." Lestrade corrected Sherlock. Sherlock sighed, disappointed.

"To me?" John asked, oblivious to the situation. "About what?"

"Well..." Lestrade cleared his throat. "Perhaps in a more private place."

"Private?!" Sherlock interjected.

"Yes private." Lestrade stated.

"You mean away from me." Sherlock laughed. The room fell silent. John focused on Sherlock, Sherlock on Lestrade, Lestrade back at Sherlock, and Ms. Hudson's attention moved around to all of them. "It's fine. I was heading out anyway." Sherlock said from behind his clentched teeth.

"No you weren't." John said as Sherlock grabbed his coat and left.

"Oh dear." Ms. Hudson whispered.

"Don't worry, Ms. Hudson. He'll be back soon." John reassured her.

"Yes... well I'll leave you boys to your business." Ms. Hudson said as she carefully went back down stairs.

"What's this about?" John asked after a few moments of silence.

"John, she's back." Lestrade simply got to the point.

"Who's back?" John questioned.

"The woman." Lestrade answered.

"Irene." John whispered. "No, this can't be hap-" John began to choke on his words.

"John?"

"We... we, uh, can't let Sherlock know." John told Lestrade.

"I know... that's why I came to talk to you." Lestrade informed John.

"Right." John said breathlessly.

"What should we do?"

"Coming to me for advice?" John laughed.

"Yeah, well... you are his only friend."

"I can hardly call us friends."

"Well you... wait are you guys fighting?" Lestrade got off subject.

"No." John said, unsure. Lestrade stared at him for a moment and then got back to the reason her was there.

"Listen, I need you to keep an eye out for him." John shook him head yes and continued to stare thoughtfully at the floor. "Right, I'll be going now."

"Yes, right." John quickly said, forcing himself to break away from his thinking and say goodbye Lestrade.

"Good day, Ms. Hudson." John could hear Lestrade say before he walked out the door.

* * *

"Sherlock! Nice to see you again. It's been such a long time." Angelo said as he walked up to the table Sherlock was sitting at and handed him menu.

"Just coffee. Black, two sugars." Sherlock said, kindly pushing the menu away.

"Of course." Angelo replied and then made his way to make the coffee. Sherlock stared out the window. It had been forever since him and John had come here. He missed it. Perhaps not the place itself, but the time spent there with John.

"Where's your date?" Angelo sarcastically said as he set Sherlock's coffee down in front of Sherlock. Sherlock looked up at Angelo, kind of surprised, but he didn't say anything right away.

"He was busy." Sherlock said moving his eyes down to his coffee. Sherlock didn't know if it was the fact that Lestrade had something to tell John and not him, when it was clearly about him, or if it was that John wasn't with him that made him feel so down. Sherlock finally came to the conclusion that the feeling wasn't sadness at all, he just felt that something bad was going to happen soon.

Ahh~

A noise came from Sherlock's phone.

"We need to talk." A message from Irene Adler said.

Beep~

A different noise came from Sherlock's phone.

"Where are you?" A message from John read.

"There's nothing to talk about." Sherlock replied to Irene. Then he opened the message, from John, again. He didn't reply he just re read to himself.

Beep~

"It's getting late. You should come back soon." Another message from John read.

Ahh~

"There is." Irene sent back. Sherlock had made up his mind to not reply.

Ahh~

Sherlock opened up the message and stared at it in disbelief. "He's back."

"Can i get you anything else?" Angelo approached Sherlock's table.

"Uh... No... I've... I've got to go." Sherlock quickly put on his coat and ran out the door.

* * *

"John!" Sherlock yelled as he made his way up the stairs to the main room.

"Finally." John laughed, trying to not be suspicious.

"He's back." Sherlock stated.

"He, who's back?" John still oblivious to everything going on around him asked.

"Moriarty!" Sherlock yelled. He scanned the room and looked out the windows several times before closing the curtains.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"Moriarty. What, Sherlock? No that's impossible. Moriarty was pronounced dead." John questioned and answered.

"Yes, John, he was pronounced dead but neither of us actually saw his body." Sherlock shot back at John.

"Great. This is fantastic. Moriarty is back too. Of course. Just what yo- we need." John muttered. Sherlock took a step back from the curtains and thought about what John said.

"Too?" Sherlock asked.

"Two? Two what?" John asked, not understanding Sherlock's question and felling it very unimportant at the moment.

"You said, 'Moriarty's back too.'" Sherlock clarified.

"Yes, right. Uh, hm." John cleared his throat. He was at a loss for words, knowing that he had screwed up.

"Who else is back?"

"No one."

"John!" Sherlock said moving towards John.

"I-Irene Adler." John hesitated. Sherlock stopped in his tracks, sort of relieved.

"Oh." Sherlock simply said.

"Oh?" John astonished, asked,

"Yeah, I already knew she ws back." Sherlock made his way back to the curtains.

"What, but how?"

"She texted me." Sherlock said. He began thinking about the situation.

"And you didn't bother to tell me?" John was offended.

"No, It didn't seem relevant. How did you know?" Sherlock said, turning, once again away from the curtain-covered window. "Of course. Lestrade." Sherlock answered himself. John stood in the background, unsure of what to say or do.

"I didn't tell you that." John managed to get out.

Hours quickly passed. John sat quietly waiting for Sherlock to return from his mind palace.

"John, I'm going out." Sherlock returned.

"I'm going with you."

"No." Sherlock put on his coat and left.

"Not again." John whispered, he walked to the window, pulled back the curtains and watched Sherlock walk away; Each step making his heart sink.

"Something weird has been going on with Sherlock." John told Ms. Hudson.

"I agree. I'm a bit worried." Ms. Hudson sat her tear down. The the two looked up at each other.

"Are you think what I'm thinking?" John asked.

"Perhaps." Ms. Hudson answered.

"It's for the best."

"Yes, for the best." The two raced up the stairs.

"Molly." Sherlock said from the shadows of the lab causing Molly to jump.

"You always do that." Molly laughed.

"I need your help." Sherlock said, seriously, causing Molly to stop laughing.

"What is it?" Molly quietly and sacredly asked. She began to remember the last Sherlock had asked for her help.

"I need you to tell me every possible way someone can be pronounced dead, but come back." Sherlock asked. Molly just stared at him and then began to explain all the possibilities. "Are you sure that's all of them?" Sherlock questioned after Molly finished her lesson.

"Yes."

"Thank you." Sherlock said and then left. Molly stood in the lab, staring at the door, and thinking what Sherlock could be up to.

"Sherlock." John quietly said when Sherlock reached the top of the stairs. Sherlock studying John's face for a moment and then realized what was going on.

"You went through my room. Did you mess up my sock index...again?" Sherlock confronted John.

"I found these." John sighed and then threw an opened box of cigarettes on the table.

"I know what you're thinking." Sherlock said, "I'm clean!" Sherlock pulled his sleeve up to show he was still using nicotine patches.

"They're opened, Sherlock." John argued.

"I'm clean, John." Sherlock began to defend himself. "What's the use, you're not going to listen to me regardless of what I have to say." Sherlock began to angry.

"You haven't given me any reason to trust you the past few days." John stated.

"We were just worried about you." Ms. Hudson entered.

"You too!" Sherlock said

"It was for the best." Ms. Hudson tried to explain.

"Well you didn't find anything of use. Mind your own business." Sherlock demanded.

"You are my business!" John yelled.

"Sherlock, you're behav-" Ms. Hudson tried to say.

"SHUT UP!" Sherlock lost it. A terrified expression came about his face, once he realized what he hd done.

"Sherlock." John whispered.

"I'm sorry... Ms. Hudson." Sherlock apologized.

"It's okay dear." Ms. Hudson hurtly said. "We're just worried about you."

"Thank you-but there's no need." Sherlock said and then turned to walk to his room.

"There obviously is." John said with more concern than ever. Sherlock turned his head to look at JOhn. The strange felling was beginning to approach Sherlock again, but he was too tired to run from it. "Tell me what's wrong." John begged.

"I can't." Sherlock tried to make John understand.

"Why?" John asked, not understanding.

"I can't bare to see you hurt." Sherlock answered, leaving John speechless, and then went to his room.

"Oh deary, It'll be all right." Ms. Hudson tried to cheer John up. "Its been a rough week. I'll make tea." Sher offered nd then went downstairs.

"Sherlock sat at the end of his bed with his hands clasped beneath his chin. He was confused. Why couldn't he find the will to fight the feeling he once before hated? Was he giving into it?

Ahh~

Sherlock's phone moaned. Sherlock wiped the single tear he had unintentionally allowed to fall and then retrieved his phone from his picket.

"We need to talk." The message read.

"I know." Sherlock sent back.

Ahh~

"Dinner?" Irene suggested.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"You know, this is never what I really mean when I say 'dinner?'" Irene said as she slid into the booth.

"Then, what do you mean?" Sherlock asked. Sherlock had already been waiting in the restaurant for exactly twenty-seven minutes and fourteen seconds before Ms. Adler arrived.

"You're the genius. I'll let you figure it out." Irene insisted.

"So are you going to tell me what you know?" Sherlock changed the subject, even though he didn't understand what Irene meant. Irene sighed. "Moriarty is back. And don't think for one second that I don't know you have something to do with him."

"You're right. I do have something to do with him." Irene ensured. Sherlock looked away from her, disappointed that he wasn't wrong. "If I didn't help him he said he'd kill you." Irene tried to defend herself.

"Idiot." Sherlock bluntly said.

"What?" Irene was a bit surprised.

"You think he won't kill me anyway?" Sherlock asked. Irene didn't know what to say. She knew that Moriarty would still kill, or at least try to kill, Sherlock, but she couldn't help it. This way she had more time with Sherlock and spared her own life. It was all for selfish reasons. "No- you know he will still kill me." Sherlock figured out.

"You still have a chance." Irene kept defending her decision.

"No, you still have a chance." Sherlock judged.

"We still have a chance." Irene corrected. Sherlock shot a glare at her.

"Do you have any idea what kind of danger you've put us in? Me, Molly, Ms. Hudson, Lestrade...John." Sherlock's angered voice turned into a whispered.

"If it weren't for me you'd be dead!" Tears began forming in Irene's eyes.

"Yes, and because of you I have to watch my friends die." Sherlock coldly said.

"I did this for you." Irene said. She was not about to give up. She placed her hand gently on Sherlock's, which sat clutched on the table.

"If you really want to help me, then tell me what you know." Sherlock demanded as he removed his hand from beneath Irene's. Irene knew that by telling Sherlock any information she would be putting her life on the line. "Please." Sherlock said in a whispered.

"Moriarty wants revenge. This is no longer a game, Sherlock." Irene explained. "He will not hesitate to kill you, your friends, or anyone who stands in his way."

"Where is he now?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't know." Irene answered.

"Irene." Sherlock disagreed.

"He moves frequently from location to location. He doesn't want anyone to know where he is... not even me." Irene went on to a further explanation.

"What are his plans?" Sherlock continued questioning.

"I'm not sure."

"You are being no help at all!"

"I am only being used to watch you."

"To spy on me, you mean." Sherlock corrected.

"Yes. But at the same time I am trying to keep you safe." Irene said.

"My safety is not my top priority."

"It's mine." Irene said looking straight into Sherlock's eyes. Irene was the first person that Sherlock ever had feelings for, that would never change, but at the moment it was almost impossible to show any kind of affection towards her.

"Why won't you just tell me what you know!?" Sherlock slammed his hand on the table, making Irene jump. Tears slowly fell from Irene's eyes. Irene took a pen out of her pocket and began writing on a napkin. Sherlock was looking away from her, well aware of her actions, but refusing to acknowledge them. Irene set the pen down and slowly got up and then walked away. Sherlock turned his head and watched her walk away. When Irene was out of slight Sherlock scooted the napkin closer to him. An address was written on it. That was all. Sherlock folded the napkin, stuffed it in his coat, and then quickly left. There was no need to pay, neither of them had ordered anything.

Sherlock stood across the street from the building in which Irene had given him the address for. It was an unused studio. There had been a sign in one of the downstairs window that said 'For Lease' for months. Hesitantly, Sherlock made his way to the entrance of the building. The door was unlocked, as if Moriarty was letting Sherlock know he was welcome. Sherlock examined the first floor of the building. It was dark and dirty, with papers and chairs scattered about.

Sherlock walked to the very back, where the stairs were located, and began up them slowly. He froze when he got to the top of the stairs. There was a television showing live footage.

"Irene." Sherlock whispered. The screen showed Irene tied to a chair while two men in black masks held her at gun point. "Irene." Sherlock said louder as he ran over to the television.

"See what happens when you make me mad?" Sherlock turned around to see Jim walking out of the shadows. Sherlock, full of angry, began walking quickly towards Moriarty. "Uh uh." Moriarty held both hands up and then pointed to the screen. Sherlock stopped.

"Why?" Sherlock had so many questions. He was confused and speechless.

"She told you where I was." Moriarty said sinisterly. "That was a no-no." Moriarty said as he shook his head up and down with his lip sticking out, as if he were giving Sherlock the puppy-dog face. "You know I really liked this place. It had a sense of home." Jim looked around the room.

"Where is she?" Sherlock said with anger.

"It doesn't matter where she is. All you find is a dead body when you get there." Moriarty laughed.

"Where is she?! I'm not playing your games!" Sherlock yelled, getting closer to Moriarty.

"This isn't a game. It's reality." Jim snapped his fingers. "One down. Three to go." There was the sound of a single gun shot. Sherlock turned around but the TV screen had gone blurry. Sherlock looked back in Moriarty's direction, but he was no longer there. Sherlock ran out of the building and onto the side-walk. He turned in every direction looking for Moriarty or someone suspicious, but there was hardly anyone walking about. Sherlock's breathing was heavy and the world seemed to spin. Regardless of what Moriarty and Irene said, this was a game. Moriarty would kill everyone Sherlock ever cared for, and Sherlock needed to find a way to stop him.

Sherlock was so deep in thought that he didn't even realize he had already made it back to 221B Baker Street. He looked up at the window to see John looking back. Sherlock looked back down and then walked inside.

"Ms. Hudson." Sherlock acknowledged when he saw her standing there. John soon came down the stairs.

"Sherlock," John said, "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry." Sherlock apologized. He didn't know what to do. He felt there was no way to stop Moriarty.

"For what?" John asked, walking closer and placing his hand against Sherlock's arm. Sherlock looked into John's eyes, not knowing how to tell him he _was _going to die. The strange feeling was there again, and Sherlock still didn't have the strength to fight it.

"Sherlock?!" John and Ms. Hudson said in astonishment when Sherlock hugged John.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" John demanded to know as he slowly pulled away from the hug. Sherlock began to tell John and Ms. Hudson what had just happened.

"Wait, Irene is dead?" John asked. Sherlock, not wanting to admit it, just stared. "I mean are you sure she is dead? You didn't actually see it happen. From what you just explained, you only heard the gun shots and when you turned around you saw nothing but a blank screen." Sherlock looked up.

"But he said, 'One down. Three to go.'" Sherlock explained.

"He's toying with your mind, Sherlock." John said. Sherlock was still speechless. But for another reason. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of any of this. He couldn't believe that Moriarty was actually getting to him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Days slowly and wearily went by. Neither John, nor Ms. Hudson had left the house. Frequently, Sherlock would leave to discreetly make sure Lestrade and Molly were safe.

"You've been coming to lab quite often lately." Molly said as she dropped a clear substance into a test tube, which contained another clear substance. When the substances mixed, a dark pink color appeared.

"Molly, what have I told you about making conversation?" Sherlock reminded her.

"Don't make it, but-"Molly protested.

"Molly, I am trying to think." Sherlock stated.

"You've been acting a bit strange, that's all I'm trying to say." Molly ignored Sherlock's indirect demand to shut up. Sherlock, who was looking through a microscope like he usually was when he was in the lab, looked up. "You said I counted. But now it seems like my presences is fading. You look sad."

"Just concentrating, that's all." Sherlock quickly came up with a believable excuse.

"I know the difference." Molly confronted him. "Remember last time, when you needed help and I said I would do anything if you asked me too? Well that still applies, even now" Molly reassured Sherlock of her previous offer.

"Thanks." Sherlock sincerely said, looking at Molly.

"Right." Molly mumbled, disappointed that Sherlock didn't tell her what was wrong. She immediately turned back to her work, letting Sherlock know that she was becoming annoyed.

"Molly, listen-"

"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want." Molly explained, trying not to come off as pushy.

"No, you need to know." Sherlock stated. Molly looked up from her work. The situation had become more serious that she had intended.

"What is it?" Molly asked as she carefully laid the testing tube on the counter top.

"Moriarty is back." Sherlock revealed.

"Jim?" Molly gasped.

"Yes, uh, Jim." Sherlock winced at using his first name.

"What? How? When?" Molly continuously threw out questions, not allowing Sherlock to explain. "Sorry." Molly apologized when she saw that Sherlock was now becoming the one annoyed.

"About two weeks ago, is when I found out." Sherlock said.

"But he wasn't pronounced dead!" Molly almost yelled.

"Yes, he was _pronounced _dead, but none of us actually saw the body." Sherlock tried to explain.

"I did." Molly quickly replied.

"What?" Sherlock said after processing what she had said.

"I examined the body." Molly elaborated.

"W-why didn't you say anything?" Sherlock asked.

"I didn't find it that important. He was dead." Molly answered.

"Are you positive he was dead?"

"Yes, there was no pulse."

"No pulse." Sherlock thought for a moment. "Of course, genius!" Sherlock laughed and the headed towards the door.

"Sherlock?" Molly tried to stop him.

"Genius, genius, genius." Sherlock repeated to himself, ignoring Molly.

"What is?" Molly said just as Sherlock walked out of the room.

* * *

"Ah, Lestrade, fancy meeting you here." Sherlock said as he walked over to Lestrade.

"Sherlock, it's the police station." Lestrade said, not understanding Sherlock's sarcasm. "I work here."

"Right." Sherlock said as ignoring Lestrade's idiocy. "So what have we got today?"

"What do you mean 'what have we got today?'" Lestrade, completely confused, asked.

"A missing bunny rabbit, man killing hound? Perhaps a man mysteriously rising from the grave?"

"What are you talking about? What are you even doing here, I didn't call for you." Lestrade continued to question.

"Moriarty." Sherlock simply said.

"What?"

"Well you asked me what I was doing here. And Moriarty is why." Sherlock clarified.

"Jim Moriarty?"

"Yes, _Jim_ Moriarty."

"What about him?"

"He has mysteriously risen from the grave!" Sherlock said as if he was telling a story.

"He's back?"

"Yes." Sherlock lightly said.

"And you're not worried?"

"Worried? Noooo." The Sherlock everyone knew had returned, not showing a care in the world.

"Then, why are you telling me this?"

"Well you're the police. Isn't that what people do when they need help? Go to the police?" Sherlock said, completely serious.

"Some go to an insane asylum." Lestrade whispered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, anyway, what is it you need help with?"

"I need to know every name of everybody that came within a 5 mile radius of Jim Moriarty's body." Sherlock grinned. "The game has begun."

* * *

**Sorry this chapter is so short! Thanks for reading! Enjoy and review :]**


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